Never Mess with Gin
by Sarshi
Summary: Complete and utter crack. It's Aizen's birthday and Gin decides to surprise him. Multiple times. Yaoi if you squint really hard.


Disclaimer: Bleach belong to Tite Kubo. I make no money off of it.

Also, beware the crack.

**His Lordship's Birthday, **or Never Mess with Gin

"I'm a broken man on a hardly faxed pair, the last of barren private ears ... For Americaaaaan golf we'd fire no guuuuns... shed no teals..."

Aizen and Gin watched Tousen singing with nearly identical looks of utter perplexity. There wasn't much that could get two great captains, masters of illusion, speechless for minutes in a row, but Tousen dancing the Cancan to horridly misinterpreted Irish folk songs while he may or may not have been wearing wearing only an Indian sari (does it count if it's used as a cape?) happened to be just one of those things.

"I didn't know he could sing," Aizen said, finally.

"...You call that singing, eh?"

"Momo."

"That bad?"

"I stabbed her for a reason. Shower concerts."

"I'd always wondered why we didn't take her with us, seeing as she made perfect canon fodder."

"May Soul Society keep her and her opera impressions."

"SHE's JUSTICE!"

"Oh, he switched," Gin nodded. "...Why does that tune sound familiar?"

"She's J! Juxtaposed!

"No clue," Aizen said. He _did_ have a clue, but really. Better not bring that particular time of his life up. It involved Momo and her dancing stage. And the 80s. Oh, gods. The 80s.

"She's U! Unrequited!"

"Actually, Aizen-sama, I had a gift for you," Gin said, smiling so much that the fact that his eyes were closed might as well have passed for over-enthusiasm on behalf of his cheekbones. "Aside from the party. I'm sorry about the party."

"She's S! Supercilious! She's T!"

"Ah, don't worry. I think it is definitely an interesting memory to have." Aizen drummed his fingers on his chin, looking around the room at broken glasses, spilled confetti, popped balloons, dead clown and Tousen.

"Terminal! She's E! Extracurricular!"

"Even so, I had hoped that the Arrancar would behave. And when I say behave, I mean behave decently."

"She's E! Elephantine! She's C!

"Now, now, Gin. They were decent. When things got really heated, they took their orgy elsewhere."

"Cerebrated! She's E! Elsewhere! WOOOHOOOO!" Tousen gave a whoop and threw his leg so far up in the air that the momentum made him slip and land on his back, where he promptly fell asleep. The quiet settled over the throne room suddenly, seemingly quite thrilled to have a chance after the previous hours. It had possibly thought that once Grimmjow and his cat-in-heat routine were away, it would stand a chance. It had not counted upon the thing that was Tousen.

"Do you think we should send somebody to pack him up in a sheet or something?" Gin asked, suddenly getting this brilliant idea about Tousen confused for a shrouded dead person, and oh, wouldn't the burial be fun?

Hah. Spirit burial. Would he end up in Seireitei again?

"No, let him sleep it off and be awakened later by whomever passes by," Aizen said pleasantly. "I don't intend to use this room sooner than tomorrow."

"Good! Good." Gin nodded. Now that they were practically alone and it was quiet, he could finally give the other man his gift. "I have something for you."

He took out a wrapped, round, elongated gift and handed it to the other man, who looked at the shape, looked at the Gin, then untied it carefully. He was quite surprised by what he found inside, because it was, essentially, what his first thought had been of it being, if that makes sense.

It was a toy. THAT kind of toy. A remarkably expensive looking toy. But it was, essentially, a purple sex toy.

He looked at Gin, who grinned.

"It has everything and more," the silver haired man said. "It vibrates, 5 speeds, random program that gets it to stop and start however it wants, whenever it wants, included. It shoots out a substance, should you want it. It can be adjusted to be more... rugged. It can get bigger. It can also get a bit smaller, too, I set it on middle size so you'd get a better grip of the situation." Gin knew he had to do this carefully. Very carefully. Timing was of essence here. "It has a complete manual in the box in which I haven't packed it, but I'll give it to you right now."

"Gin..." Aizen didn't really know what to say. He sincerely didn't know what to say. What _do_ you say at times like these? "I suppose I should be thanking you. It's... However... Slightly disturbing."

"Well, it should be," Gin said, holding his real surprise tightly in his fist. "It's the only existent copy, perfect condition, barely used. It was the last thing ever designed by the infamous research pair, Urahara and Mayuri. Those guys were a blast together. In _so_ many ways. You'd never know Urahara had it in him to make Mayuri submit like that to his commands, right?"

Aizen stared at him. Then he looked at the _thing_. Then he looked at Gin.

Then realization struck and, in the same moment, he turned earthly pale, recoiled, dropped it and wiped his hand against his hakama as hard as he could. He also heard a click.

"Heh! Gotcha!" Gin laughed with delight and caught Aizen around the shoulders so cheerfully that the other man considered running. His second in command could be positively frightening at times. "That was just a joke. Here's your real present!"

He raised a digital photo camera, showing the birthday man the latest photo on it: himself, white with horror, recoiling, hair on ends.

"The historical moment in which you last feel terror - voila! Happy birthday!"

Aizen looked at Gin and greatly wondered about his own ability to make decisions. Why had he chosen that man for his position? Why had he been insane enough, knowing his questionable humor, his tendency to wreak havoc, his reinterpretation of orders, his tendency to do...

The evil overlord sighed tiredly. It had been a very long day. Maybe he'd appreciate it at some time.

Maybe.

"To bed," he ordered. "And stop doing things like that."

Gin bowed and grinned. Of course he wouldn't. He never repeated a trick twice. Now, time to plan his next scheme...


End file.
